


Girls Night Out

by bwayfan25



Category: ER (TV 1994)
Genre: 2020ERGiftExchange, A little bit of Susan's missing five years, A lot of drunk!Kerry working stuff out, Angst, Clubbing, Coming Out, F/F, Late Night Conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28220265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwayfan25/pseuds/bwayfan25
Summary: The agreement stood that Susan, Abby, and Deb rotated picking the location for Girls Night and that, barring any major issues and/or dangers, the selection was not allowed to be complained about by the others in the party. But when Susan picks out a bar calledThe Lavender Lounge, famous for good drinks and sapphic women, she happens to run into the one person she wouldn't have expected: Her boss.A gift for flutter2decieve for ER Gift Exchange 2020 where Susan and Kerry talk a bit about what happened in the five years Susan missed after accidentally running into each other at a lesbian bar.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Girls Night Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flutter2deceive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flutter2deceive/gifts).



The woman at the door narrowed her eyes at the IDs in her hand. Once satisfied that they were legitimate, she handed them back to the three women in front of her. 

“Looks like that’s in order,” she said brusquely. “It’s a fifteen dollar cover.”

_ “A fifteen dollar cover?”  _ Deb repeated in surprise before she looked at Susan. “This place better be as good as you say it is.”

“It is, it is. I promise,” Susan assured her as she reached for her wallet. 

She handed a twenty to the bouncer, who took it and then handed her five ones in return. Abby and Deb followed suit, leading the woman to step aside and let them in. 

Susan gave the woman a word of thanks and then led them inside. 

Even just walking in, they could tell that The Lavender Lounge lived up to its name, both in the color of the lights above them and in the promise of a popular space for sapphic women. 

Tables and barstools surrounded the dance floor and a few dark booths lined the opposite wall. A dozen or so women were seated at the bar to their left with another dozen standing nearby chatting. Most of the women were on the dance floor directly ahead of them, dancing to “Galileo” (as the third Friday of the month was Indigo Girls Night).

“Remind me again why you chose a lesbian bar on girls night?” Deb asked over the music. “Are you thinking of switching teams?”

“Can’t switch if you already play for both,” Susan replied automatically as she strained to see over the crowd. 

“What are you looking for?” Abby asked, frowning. 

“Nothing. Just force of habit,” Susan said with a shrug before looking back at her and Deb. “Making sure I know where the exits are. You know, if I need them.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to worry about them around here,” Deb remarked, glancing around. 

Susan looked ready to shake her head, but instead just shrugged.

“You can never be too careful.”

“Right,” Deb replied (though it was clear in her tone she didn’t necessarily mean it). “Well, while you do that, I’m going to freshen up.”

“And I’ll go get the first round. Susan, Amaretto Sour?” When Susan nodded, Abby glanced at Deb. “Deb?”

“Something fruity that will get me drunk as fast as possible.”

Both Susan and Deb handed her a handful of bills towards the tab she was inevitably going to open before the group separated. 

Left alone, Susan began to circle the dance floor, looking for an open table. 

She found one fairly quickly, but as she made to claim it, she caught a glimpse of a woman standing at the next table over. Or, rather, she caught sight of the woman’s hat.

It was a cowboy hat, or as a voice in her head always corrected her, a  _ Stetson _ . It went along with the rest of her outfit - plaid button down, jeans, and boots - but that wasn’t what veered Susan away from the table in search of a different one.

In her head, she knew that it wasn’t Dix. Dix was back in Phoenix, no doubt enjoying her own Friday night at the gay bar they used to frequent together. Maybe she’d go there with a date. Maybe she’d find one while she was there. 

Dix, after all, was  _ very _ good at finding dates. Until she met Susan, of course. When she met Susan, her days of serial dating and bedding any woman she wanted came to an end and was replaced with monogamous bliss. 

That was what she always said, at least. Any time her eyes strayed even just a  _ little _ bit away from her lovely girlfriend, she’d repeat it like a mantra. It even made it into her prepared remarks when she knelt down on a snowy balcony in Colorado on New Year’s Eve with a ring in her hand.

But it was only a month later when Susan returned home early from work so they could meet with the wedding planner that the words proved a lie. A long con, carefully crafted over the four years of their relationship, that almost ended in long-term commitment but instead ended in flames the moment Susan returned home from work one day to find Dix and the wedding planner on the living room floor. 

Once upon a time,  Stetsons cowboy hats brought her comfort. Now, they brought her pain.

Lost in her thoughts, Susan nearly passed by another empty table. She caught it out of the corner just before she passed by it and spun around, just as another bar patron grabbed it at the same time. 

A patron she knew.

“Kerry?”

Kerry, clearly also lost in her thoughts, looked up in alarm. Her startle seemed to hit her in two waves; first at hearing her name and then at the recognition of the woman across from her. 

“Susan?” Kerry looked around, an expression of something like panic on her face before stepping closer to Susan so she could hiss, _ “What are you doing here?” _

“Um, because it’s girls night,” Susan replied without thinking. “I wanted somewhere with good drinks and good dancing. This place came highly recommended.”

Kerry sucked in air and stiffened. 

“This is a…” Kerry glanced around again, as if making sure they weren’t being overheard. “This is a _ lesbian bar.” _

Susan blinked several times. 

“I know that, Kerry,” she said slowly. “I got the hint when I noticed there were only women here. And that no less than three of the neon signs are outlines of the female form.”

Both of them automatically glanced up at the sign on the wall closest to them and then back down at each other. Kerry shook her head as if trying to jolt herself back into her normal austere self. 

“You understand that… that by being here, you could…” Kerry inhaled deeply. “That you could get hit on by women?”

Susan couldn’t exactly tell if Kerry was asking her or telling her, but either way, she nodded. Kerry recoiled as if she’d been slapped. 

“And you’re okay with that?” she asked, dropping her voice to an incredulous whisper. 

“Yeah,” Susan replied, nodding. “Are you?” 

“Am I….” Kerry’s brow furrowed. “Am I okay with you getting hit on by women?”

“No. I meant are  _ you _ okay with getting hit on by women?” Susan asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because you keep looking around as if you’re concerned one of these women might talk to you.”

“I’m not concerned about that,” Kerry said quickly. “I’m just….”

“What? Worried that  _ I’ll _ hit on you? Because I don’t think you’re going to need to worry about that, Kerry,” Susan informed her seriously. “You’re not really my type.”

Kerry didn’t laugh nor even crack a smile, but she did seem a  _ little _ bit reassured by Susan’s words. At the very least, she pulled herself up to full height the way she usually did whenever she was trying to maintain her (haughty) composure at work.

Even, there was…  _ something _ in Kerry’s eyes that Susan couldn’t quite place. A look, almost like a  _ hurt _ that shone through even though it was feasibly what she wanted. 

“Good,” she said with a nod. “As that would be terribly inappropriate.”

“Uh-huh.” Susan fought back an eyeroll. “Well, I guess I should ask you if you would like to join Abby, Deb, and I for a drink or if that would also be considered ‘terribly inappropriate.’ Because if it is, I need to go find another table.”

Even in the low light of the bar, Susan could see Kerry blanche at the suggestion. 

“No. I can’t… I can’t do that,” she replied in a tone as nervous as she looked. “It’s highly inappropriate for me to… fraternize with my employees.”

_ Of course it is. _

“Right.” Susan forced a smile. “Well, in that case, have a good night.”

She waited until she’d turned away from Kerry to finally roll her eyes the way she wanted to. In doing so, she caught sight of Abby and Deb, who’d already found a table closer to the bar. 

“Where did you go?” Deb asked as Susan drew even with them. “And why do you look like you just got done talking to Weaver?”

Susan stared at her for a moment.

“How the  _ hell _ did you know that?”

Deb’s brow rose in surprise. 

“I was  _ kidding. _ Did you really see her?”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” Susan replied, nodding. “We were both looking for a table and ended up at the same one.”

“Did you invite her to join us?” Deb asked seriously. 

“I did, but she declined,” Susan assured them at the look on Deb’s face. “As Chief of Emergency Services, having a drink with her co-workers is strictly off-limits.”

“Good,” Deb said, sighing with relief. “Because I actually planned on having  _ fun _ tonight.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Abby said with a shrug. “She’s always struck me as the kind of person that, if you get them drunk enough, could be a lot of fun.”

“The amount of alcohol it would take to unwind  _ that,”  _ Susan said, jerking a thumb behind her, “is  _ well _ above the legal limit. If it wouldn’t outright kill her.”

Abby rolled her eyes, but didn’t press the issue further. Instead, she just raised her glass to them both and then drank it down. Deb didn’t hesitate to follow her. 

For the two of them, as soon as the alcohol hit their bloodstream, Abby and Deb completely forgot that the three of them were not the only County employees in the bar that night. They just enjoyed their drinks and the freedom alcohol gave their worries as they danced to 1980s indie folk. 

Susan, on the other hand, didn’t feel quite the same way. Perhaps it was because it was she who had actually talked to Kerry, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. 

Not that they were. In the rare glimpses she caught of Kerry throughout the night, she seemed to have interest only in the glass of wine in front of her. The most drastic of movements made was from the table to an empty booth along the wall (which Susan figured had something to do with the fact that the tall tables did not come with any seating). 

Before it could finally occur to Susan that it was  _ she  _ who was doing the watching, she found herself the most sober member of a party tumbling their way off the dance floor and out into the street, headed for home. 

“Are you sure you guys don’t want me to go with you?” she asked as Abby half-walked/half-stumbled towards the curb to wave down a cab. 

“You live in the opposite direction,” Deb said, her words a bit slurred as she waved Susan away. “Besides. Abby can take me home.”

Susan glanced from her to Abby and back and then narrowed her eyes. 

“I think it’s probably better for me to go with you.”

“Don’t worry. I got it,” Abby said, raising a serious hand.

To her credit, her tripping forward towards the curb didn’t necessarily translate to her level of sobriety (to navigate a cab ride home at least), and it  _ did _ lead a yellow taxi to slow to a stop at the curb for them. So, against what she was sure was her better judgement, she hugged them both and then waved as they climbed, giggling, into the back of the cab. 

Susan kept waving until the cab turned a corner up ahead and disappeared off into the night. Chuckling to herself as she considered that, of the three of them, she was the only one  _ not _ drunkenly climbing into the back of a cab with another giggling drunk woman, she pulled her jacket closer around her. 

Spring was definitely not here yet, but in the absence of biting wind off the lake, the mid-March night wasn’t too bad. 

Susan drew in a deep breath of the cool night air and then turned towards the El tracks. It was never a great idea to ride the El at night, but considering she’d been drinking and she was only three stops down the closest line (and she had a cellphone and a thing of mace on her person), she was willing to risk it. 

But as she started down the sidewalk, she passed a familiar figure sitting on a bench, illuminated by a nearby streetlight. 

“Hey, Kerry,” she greeted instinctively as she neared her. “Waiting on your ride?”

Kerry didn’t jolt in surprise the way she had earlier. She looked up slowly, revealing bleary-eyes of inebriation and an expression that looked positively mournful. 

“What?” she replied, her words slowed too in an effort for them not to slur together. 

“I asked if you’re waiting on your ride,” Susan repeated. 

“Oh.” Kerry looked back down at the dark pavement ahead of her. “No.”

“Do you want me to flag down a cab for you?” Susan asked, stepping closer. “Or do you want to use my phone to call someone?”

Kerry just shook her head, still staring at the street. Susan frowned and then glanced from her down to her watch.

“Well, it’s getting late. You don’t want to be out too late by yourself,” Susan said in a hope to spur Kerry into action. “Do you want me to help you get home?” 

Kerry shook her head again. 

“I don’t want to go home.”

There was a fair deal more emotion and a touch more of a dramatic edge in Kerry’s words and expression that Susan knew to be due to the wine she’d been drinking, but she couldn’t help but grow concerned at the phrase. It was her ER doctor instincts, she knew, but that didn’t alleviate the worry that sat her down on the bench next to Kerry (or her legal obligation as a mandated reporter).

“Is everything okay at home?” Susan asked, her brow furrowing. “Is… Is something wrong?”

Kerry shook her head a third time.

“No things aren’t okay or no, nothing’s wrong.”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Kerry replied, still not looking up. 

Susan took a deep breath. 

“Kerry, if something  _ is _ wrong at home,” she said in a low, serious voice, “you can tell me.”

Kerry let out a small huff and shook her head yet again. 

“There’s nothing wrong,” she repeated. “I live alone. There’s nobody at home.”

Susan nodded, but the statement only added confusion to her concern. 

“Then, why don’t you want to go home?” she asked quietly. 

There was a long moment of silence as Kerry seemingly worked up the sobriety necessary for an answer. But as soon as she spoke, it became clear that the words were not accompanied by efforts of coherence but by sobs. 

“Because there’s nobody at home.”

As soon as the words had left her mouth, Kerry broke down even more. Hot tears began to pour from her eyes as her earlier glass of merlot let loose the floodgates of everything she’d been bottling up for the last several weeks (and months and possibly years). 

“It-It-It was supposed to be easier,” she said in between sobs. “It-It was supposed to…. It was supposed to be  _ better  _ once I was…. Once I was out. That’s what they…. That’s what they kept telling me. But it’s  _ not. _ ”

Susan naturally made to wrap an arm around Kerry as she cried, but the knowledge that this was not just anyone in need of comfort but rather her incredibly tightly-wound and aggressively boundary-protective boss held her back. So, instead, she just gently rubbed her arm. 

“When you say ‘they’ told you that… do you mean your exes?”

Kerry nodded. 

“They-They wanted me to come out, but I-I-I didn’t want to,” Kerry replied amidst more tears. “I-I-I didn’t want to. I wasn’t… I wasn’t ready.”

At the words ‘I wasn’t ready,’ Kerry’s sobs overwhelmed her, but Susan didn’t blame her one bit. 

She had not been at the desk for the now-famous kiss between Kerry and the firefighter that had taken place in the ER a few weeks prior, but several of those who watched first-hand did not hesitate to fill her in on it as soon as they could. But what all of them, save for maybe Abby, failed to understand was that Susan didn’t find the news exciting gossip but rather the stuff of nightmares. 

“I didn’t want to…I just wanted  _ them. _ I didn’t want to have to-to tell anyone.” Kerry let out a shaky huff(/hiccup). “I don’t tell people other… other stuff about me. Why…. Why did this have to be  _ different?” _

But her momentary frustration at her former girlfriends only lasted for that one moment before it gave way to more tears. 

Susan let her cry for another long moment, hoping the gentle strokes of Kerry’s arm were as comforting as she intended them to be. 

Though she didn’t know anything about Kerry’s love life other than what she’d just revealed in the last five minutes, that very fact proved Kerry’s point.

No one really knew anything more about the authoritative redhead than they did when Susan left. She was still stiff and unyielding as ever, had clear and firm boundaries between her work and home lives, and walked with a limp and crutch for reasons unknown. Even Carter, who had apparently lived in her basement for several months a few years back, came out of the experience with little else to offer than she had a strange taste in music (which she listened to at ungodly hours of the morning) and was an exceptionally talented chef. 

That was the point, wasn’t it? Kerry drew hard lines in the sand around her personal life and always had. Even having been gone for five years, Susan knew that well. 

If there was anything the ER staff knew, it was that Kerry could have been keeping anything from them. Her sexuality and the cause of her disability, sure, but for all they knew, she could have a redheaded kid running around at home or live with a mother just as passionate and stubborn as she was.

If these ex-girlfriends felt it necessary for Kerry to be out to her co-workers, but were unaware exactly how tight-lipped she was about everything else in her personal life, Susan wondered if they’d ever really known her at all.

Finally, Kerry drew in a deep breath and then looked back down at her lap. 

“I was going to… to call her. That’s why I came here tonight,” Kerry admitted as she picked at a scuff mark on the cuff of her crutch. “She says she was…. She said she was doing me a favor. And I don’t… I don’t think that’s true. B-But I still want to call her. I… I  _ miss _ her.”

Kerry teared up again in the grief of the falling out between her and Sandy. It swelled inside her for another moment before she took another steadying breath. 

Silence fell between them once again, save for the whistling of the Chicago wind and the murmured conversations and footsteps of passers by. 

“I’m glad you came out,” Susan said before catching the look on Kerry’s face and quickly adding,  _ “tonight. _ I’m glad you came out  _ tonight. _ And that you didn’t call her.”

Though apparently reassured by the clarification of Susan’s meaning, it changed Kerry’s expression from confusion to curiosity. Susan knew her well enough to know this meant she wanted further elaboration, so she took her own moment to pull together her thoughts. 

“I don’t believe that people are unforgivable, but I think they can  _ do _ things that are unforgivable,” Susan thought aloud. “And I think that’s one of them.

“She put your life in danger by doing that. And, yeah, nothing happened and things are better and safer than they used to be. We can go out to a club in Boystown and have fun, but… but it’s never completely safe. And…. And you know how fucked up that fucking hospital is. Who’s to say that some homophobic patient didn’t see her kiss you and then stabbed you to death in the parking garage as you left that night, thinking he was making the world a better place?”

Susan forced herself to take another deep breath to combat how tense and angry she’d grown in the last few seconds. But even as she exhaled, she could feel Kerry watching her intently. 

“What I’m trying to say is… ” Susan said slowly. “...If she doesn’t understand that - or if she does and still thinks she was right to do it - then…. Then, Kerry, you deserve someone who cares about you more than that.”

At Kerry’s responding silence, Susan turned her head to look at her. She still looked ready to cry, but Susan couldn’t quite tell if it was out of relief or out of continuing sadness. At least, not until she spoke. 

“What if no one else does?”

A tiny (and mean) voice in Susan’s head told her that Kerry was asking for this reassurance in a hope to off-set her own guilt over how she had - and did - treat others. But the mean little voice was no match for the candid desperation, the genuine fear and sorrow, that ached that rang through loud and clear in Kerry’s quiet words. 

What if there wasn’t anyone else out there who could care for her more than that? What if she was destined to live alone and unloved for the rest of her life? What if she’d had her chance to be happy for the first time in  _ so damn long _ and she’d let it slip through her fingers?

Susan steeled herself for a potential angry outburst, but nonetheless took those very fingers in hers and squeezed them tight. 

“There are a lot of people who care for you more than that, Kerry,” she told her sincerely. “At the very least,  _ I _ do. And I know Abby does. And Carter. And probably a lot more of us than you realize.”

Susan squeezed Kerry’s hand tight once more and then released it. 

“And I’m sure she cares about you more than that, too. And I know I said that I think it’s unforgivable, but that doesn’t mean that  _ you  _ have to. If you want to forgive her, you can. But you also don’t have to, even if she comes asking for it.” Susan closed her eyes for a long moment. “I just…. I just think that, if she doesn’t come to you, ready to earn her forgiveness, you shouldn’t go to her ready to give it.”

Susan had never thought to use the phrase ‘looked at her with big puppy-dog eyes’ to describe Kerry Weaver (and likely never would again), but in that moment, that was the only thing that fit. And when all Kerry could manage to say was a tiny “Thank you,” Susan felt pain in her chest as she wondered if this was the first time Kerry had received any support or comfort instead of jeers and jokes since what was likely one of the most terrifying moments of her life. 

Another cold wind blew, causing them both to shiver, but neither made any movement to rise from their seat on the bench and start the journey home. 

“Can I ask you a question?” At Susan’s replying shrug, Kerry asked, “Who is it that you haven’t forgiven? And what did they do?”

Susan almost laughed. She hadn’t expected the question to come up, but knew it was surely because the Universe knew that the price of a  _ willingly vulnerable _ Kerry Weaver could only be reciprocity.

“I was engaged,” Susan replied flatly. “And she cheated on me.”

_ “She?” _

(Apparently the wine had washed away more than just Kerry's boundaries over the course of the evening.)

“Yeah. She,” Susan said, nodding. “Her name was Theresa. But no one ever called her that. She went by Dix. Dix Dickerson. Which I always told her was a great stage name if she ever took up drag.”

Susan chuckled at her almost-monthly telling Dix to create a drag king act for their favorite gay bar’s open drag night. Dix had always thought it was just a running joke, even thought Susan insisted she couldn’t be more serious. 

As the memory faded, so did the moment of warmth that came with it. Susan sat back against the bench.

“We met a couple months after I moved out there. At a place kinda like this one,” she explained, with a gesture towards The Lavender Lounge. “And she… had a reputation. When we first started dating, a bunch of women - and a couple of the men who were regulars too - warned me. But the longer we were together, their tune started to change. They started to think that I was special. That I’d managed to ‘reign her in.’ And ‘make a decent woman out of her.’”

Susan shook her head and let out a sigh. 

“But it turned out I wasn’t special. I’d just been duped the longest.” She let out a bitter scoff. “And if that wasn’t bad enough, a few of them told me  _ to my face _ that they were surprised that  _ I _ hadn’t been the one to cheat. Even the ones who knew her and what she was like. They just assumed that because I’m bisexual and that apparently makes me more suspicious.”

“Is that the reason you moved back?” Kerry asked, her tone curious (if still not entirely sober). 

Susan nodded.

“It’s most of it, at least,” she said, crossing her arms. “I moved back in with my sister after I caught her cheating, and a couple months later my sister announced she and her family were moving to California. I didn’t have anything left in Arizona, and I figured I was less likely to kidnap Little Suzie and adopt her as my own if I moved somewhere else, so I moved back here. But once I got here, I realized I didn’t have as much left here as I thought I did. 

“Mark’s married. Carter’s all grown up. Half the staff doesn’t know me and the other half doesn’t trust me.” 

“What do you mean they don’t trust you?” 

Susan felt herself stiffen slightly. 

“They think Mark is cheating on Elizabeth with me. That whatever…. That whatever unfinished business between us when I left is still unfinished. And no one believes that more than Elizabeth.”

Susan found herself shaking her head harder than she expected to, the action fueled by the frustration and hurt of the rumors she knew had been circulating through the hospital since her return last November.

“Mark is my friend. I love him deeply, but as my  _ friend _ . Whatever was left unfinished between us is ancient history now. And, even if it wasn’t, I would  _ never  _ do that to him or to Elizabeth. And I hate that some people, that  _ Elizabeth _ thinks I could. And I can say that over and over again, but I can’t even say  _ why _ that bothers me so much. And it’s not just because Elizabeth seems like someone I’d really get along with otherwise.”

Susan closed her eyes and breathed deeply. 

“Maybe in another lifetime, I guess. Maybe one where I never left. Or at least one where everyone knew for sure that the business was finished for sure…. Whatever  _ that _ means.” 

A group of college-aged men, drunkenly singing “Waterloo” at the top of their lungs, passed by behind them as they made their way down the sidewalk. (No doubt they’d been at the third Friday ABBA Night at the bar a few doors down.)

“In another lifetime,” Kerry began quietly as the men turned down a side street. “Or-or-or even if we met at a bar and didn’t know each other.... Would I still not be your type?”

Like the way she’d asked what would happen if there was no one who cared, Susan could hear the same genuine question - and sorrow - in her voice. 

“That was a  _ joke _ , Kerry,” she assured, patting Kerry’s leg affectionately. Then, she shrugged. “But honestly, I don’t know. But that’s because I don’t think I really  _ have _ a type. Other than, well….”

Susan’s words trailed off and, to Kerry’s surprise, she rolled her eyes at herself. 

“Okay. I do have a  _ bit _ of a type,” she conceded (albeit a bit reluctantly). “But if I say what it is, then you  _ definitely _ sound like my type.”

Kerry frowned slightly, apparently now unsure if she really wanted to be Susan’s type or not. 

“What is it?”

Susan’s lips curled into a smirk. She rolled her eyes again. 

“Women who could kick my ass and men that absolutely wouldn’t under any circumstance,” she said, shaking her head. “Not that I would want any woman I date to kick my ass under any circumstance either, but the fact that they  _ could  _ is very attractive.”

Kerry didn’t have the chance to say anything before Susan raised a finger in her direction. 

“I don’t want you getting it in your head that I think you could kick my ass, though,” she said seriously. “If anything, it would be a fair fight. But, personally, I still think I could do it. You just haven’t seen me fight dirty enough.”

This was enough to bring a small smile to Kerry’s face for the first time in their conversation. Susan responded by squeezing her hand once again. 

“Are you ready to go home now?” she asked, observing Kerry closely for any sign of an answer (or an improvement). 

Kerry still looked rather forlorn at the idea of having to return to an empty house, which was obvious both in her expression and in her next question.

“Will you come with me?” 

“I’m happy to help you get home,” Susan replied, nodding. “But whether or not I stay is a question for a different day. One better asked when you’re not drunk.”

Even still tipsy, Kerry’s natural reaction was apparently to challenge answers she didn’t like. But the part of her sense that was still the slightest bit sober forced her to nod in concession. 

Susan rose from the bench and flagged down a passing cab, which both she and Kerry climbed into. Kerry gave the cabbie her address, which was surprisingly closer to Susan’s than she would have expected. 

Susan made the cab wait until Kerry had made it all the way up the front steps and inside her house before giving him her own address a few blocks away. 

It was the first time Susan would ever take Kerry home, but it wasn’t likely to be the last. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy _ER_ Gift Exchange! This was written specifically for flutter2decieve, who was interested in what would happen if Susan chose a lesbian bar for girls night and ended up seeing Kerry there. I hope this lives up to your expectations!
> 
> Because I can't post fanfiction without spilling all my thoughts into the author notes, you likely _know_ I've got thoughts to share. 
> 
> First of all, one of my biggest gripes with Kerry's coming out arc (which I've shared before) is that she gets outed against her will, but it's portrayed as her fault. But I think we all know that getting outed is _never_ that person's fault, but rather the one who did the outing. Even when you're angry, even when you think you know what's best for them, it's never right and it's never okay. The fact that the writers never gave Kerry a moment of reprieve or even just someone saying, "That's fucked up. I'm sorry," is a real big problem in my book, which unfortunately tainted the character of Sandy a bit for me. In my head, there's a big apology scene where she owns up to that. 
> 
> Second of all, I never miss an opportunity to make up a backstory for someone, and in this fic, that means I get to fill in a bit of Susan's missing five years. We know in canon that she was engaged and that the person's name was Dix and that something happened that broke them up prior to Susan moving back to Chicago. And, like I pulled the character of Michael Levin out of a similar tiny bit of info given in canon, here we have Theresa "Dix" Dickerson. This was partially borne out of the fact that Susan Lewis is bisexual and you cannot change my mind on that as well as the fact that I know flutter2deceive headcanons Dix was a woman. So, here you are. 
> 
> Third of all, I'm sorry this was less about the girls night and more about a girls talk, but hopefully it made sense enough and you enjoyed some angst (and some hope). When describing this to someone, I mentioned that this was a far less happy drunk!Kerry than I usually write. But the girl needs some catharsis and conversation, and if it takes wine to do it, then it takes wine to do it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Happy holidays and here's to a good 2021!


End file.
